


white winter trees, covered in snow (i don't mind)

by ihavetoomuchfreetime



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All I Want For Christmas Is Love Actually, And More Fluff, Christmas fic, Feelings and shit, Fluff, M/M, and fluff, goodnress gratious me, in hyde park, there's a proposal, with snow and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:39:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavetoomuchfreetime/pseuds/ihavetoomuchfreetime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Zayn," Liam begins with a shaky voice, "why are you down on one knee?"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>"Well it's certainly not because he's gonna suck you off in public," Louis quips, and Harry elbows him in the chest.</em></p><p> </p><p>or, in which Zayn proposes to Liam in hyde park.</p>
            </blockquote>





	white winter trees, covered in snow (i don't mind)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soofyahn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soofyahn/gifts).



> (this might be a bit late, but it's still the 24th of December in England)
> 
> i literally wrote this in two days. i have not wrapped any presents, so if my family are sorely dissapointed i have fanfiction to blame. :D  
> this isn't beta'd yet, but my #1 bae izzy - soofmas/sooyahn/spookyahn- is gonna beta this for me because she is a blessing.  
> also, this is for you, izzy, because i know how much you love proposal fics lmao
> 
>  
> 
> title taken from 'winter trees' by the staves.

 

****

 

**white winter trees, covered in snow (i don't mind)**

 

*

The sky is the familiar hue indigo and inky blue that it always is in December. The wind whistles through the leafless trees and through the crack at the bottom of the window in the flat, small droplets of condensation decorating the corner of the window like glitter.

Outside, on the street below, people move quickly like the breeze and silently like shadows, wrapped in an array of scarves, coats and woolly hats, power walking against the cold. The lights have only just gone up in Camden, and the flickering white lights that hang from the streetlamps make the frost on the pavement shimmer in the darkness.

Liam’s sat on the couch, hair messy and matted from sleeping for ten consecutive hours, eyes soft and hidden behind thick framed glasses and his legs tucked under him as he watches another episode of _Catfish_. He’s wearing one of Zayn’s jumpers – a black and grey floral one with roses and tulips adorning the arms and breast pocket – and it’s tight on him (Zayn can see the outline of his pecks and biceps and it’s almost so sinful he could cry), but he still looks ridiculously soft and warm and winter and _Liam_.

Zayn is so disgustingly in love. It’s _incredibly_ ridiculous.

Louis will be the first to point it out – he’ll gag or roll his eyes whenever Liam will coo _Zaynie_ or _mira jaan_ ; whenever Zayn will say something and Liam will smile and get those cute, adorable crinkles around his eyes, or Liam will talk to Zayn in broken, mispronounced Urdu. Liam pouts, and Zayn pokes his jutted out bottom lip and throws anything in arms reach towards Louis to defend his boyfriend’s honour. Louis almost always dodges and calls him a wanker, and Zayn will return the sentiment with a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and that’ll be that.

Now, though, he throws himself over the back of the couch and lands on Liam with a loud slap of skin against skin, and Liam lets out an “oof!” but grins at Zayn when his head falls lazily in his lap. Zayn grins back lazily.

“What an entrance,” Liam remarks, smiling down at Zayn with the smile that Louis’ dubbed _The Zayn Smile._

“Thank you,” Zayn says. “You’re wearing my jumper.”

“Mm,” Liam says, raking his fingers through his hair, and Zayn keens. “I quite fancied it, to be honest.”

“It suits you,” Zayn says, snuggling into Liam. “You look wonderful.”

“I’m aware,” Liam teases, and Zayn frowns good-naturedly and sits up, curling into Liam’s side. “I think I look really chiselled. Do you think I look chiselled?”

“I think you look chiselled,” Zayn confirms with a smile stretching across his lips. He can’t help the smile – it’s just a constant side effect from being around Liam all the time. Liam is just – he’s just –

Zayn is in his third year of university studying English at one of the most esteemed universities in the UK, and he can’t even begin to formulate the words that add up to _Liam._

(Louis thinks it’s pathetic. Zayn’s an honest man, and he thinks so too, but it’s pathetic in the _best_ kind of way.)

Liam brushes his fingers through Zayn’s hair, his fingers scratching his scalp lightly just the way that Zayn adores, and he almost _purrs._ “Mm,” Zayn hums, eyes fluttering shut, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Liam replies back, his voice sincere – the way it always is when he says those words – and he holds Zayn closer. “You’re very fond tonight, aren’t you, Zee?”

“I’m always fond with you,” Zayn says, honestly.

“You’re such a sap.”

“I’m _your_ sap.”

Liam rolls his eyes fondly, and sighs. “What did you wanna do for Christmas?”

Zayn shrugs. He never really gives Christmas much thought. Growing up in a Muslim family, they never really celebrated Christmas. Sometimes, they’d get a small, plastic, pathetic looking cheap tree from Argos whenever his mum could be bothered, and his parents would give Zayn and his sisters presents, but it never really was _Christmas._ There were no carols about baby Jesus, there weren’t any stockings or tinsel or a wreath adorning the front door. They didn’t go to the carol services that Zayn’s school held, nor did they go to Nativity the Safaa’s primary school put on, that she was never in. He was fine with it – he never really wanted or longed for Christmas. It’s only since moving away from his family in little Bradford and coming to busy bustling central London did he ever really partake in the festivities.

This year, though, Liam insisted on a Christmas tree, and Zayn complied because _Liam._ It’s just a small little thing that they managed to haul up the stairs to their apartment, and they decorated it until the early hours of the morning with lights and tinsel and all these stupid – _cute -_ little things that Liam snagged from Wilko’s at the last minute. It’s wonky and a bit sorry looking, but Zayn loves the way it sparkles in the corner of the room, a couple of poorly wrapped presents littering the base of the tree.

“Not bothered,” Zayn says with a shrug.

Liam frowns. “Come _on_ , it’s Christmas! You need to be _festive_ , Zayn. Where’s your festivity?”

“Please do not make me wear those sodding awful jumpers you bought from Primark the other day,” Zayn grimaces. “They are appauling.”

“They’re _matching_ and couple-y  and _cute_ ,” Liam insists with a grin. “We have to be looking top form for the next couple of days, Zayn. I refuse to let Harry and Louis out-do us again this year.”

Zayn grins. Those two _always_ get disgustingly besotted around Christmas; Harry insists on jumpers and socks and the perfect Christmas tree, and forces all of them to go carolling around London. Last year, Louis knitted Harry an awful scarf that had ‘I love you’ sewn into it. Harry cried, and declared them the best couple the world ever has and ever will see, much to Liam’s discontentment.

“That scarf was abysmal, wasn’t it,” Zayn grimaces, remembering Harry never taking off that blue and red monstrosity.

“Louis’ shouldn’t knit for England, it’s agreed,” Liam says, “but it was _cute_ , and we have to be that cute this year.”

“No doubt Louis will propose by leaving a ring in the Christmas pudding,” Zayn snorts, but he hears Liam’s breath hitch. Zayn frowns. “Y’alright, Liam?”

Liam nods shakily, sucking his bottom lip in the way he does when he’s nervous about something. “Yeah, but – _marriage?_ You honestly think he’s gonna propose?”

Zayn nods, brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. He asked me to look at rings a month back.”

Liam’s eyes widen almost comically, and his mouth forming a soundless ‘o’. “Oh,” is all he says. Then, “ _Marriage?”_

Zayn nods slowly, not understanding Liam’s shock. “Yes. It’s been legal here for months now.”

“Yes, I know that,” Liam says, exasperation hanging heavy in his voice, “but marriage is a huge step. They’re only twenty three and twenty one. Harry’s still afraid of the dark, for fuck’s sake. He can’t even tie his shoelaces.”

Zayn snorts. “Yeah, ‘e’s a bit hopeless, ain’t he?”

“Marriage,” Liam whispers again, looking dazed. “ _Marriage_. A commitment for _life_.”

“They’ve been together for five years,” Zayn reminds him, sitting up. “They live together. They’re practically married as it is.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Liam says. “But – it’s just a bit strange, that.”

“What’s strange?”

“Marriage,” Liam clarifies, eyes wide and faraway. “ _Marriage.”_

A smile spreads itself across Zayn’s face. “Do _you_ wanna get married, _jaan_?”

Liam blushes, his cheeks tinted red. “Of _course_ , are you mad? I’d love to get married.”

“To me,” Zayn adds teasing, although his heart rate picks up.

“To _you_ ,” Liam confirms, with a love-sick smile. “Some day.”

It’s promising, isn’t it? Well. _More_ that promising, because Zayn’s been really hoping – like, _really_ hoping – that one day that he and Liam will be married, and they’ll have a lovely, ostentatious, extravagant ceremony and honeymoon somewhere cosy and have lots and _lots_ of lazy sex in front of a wood fire, and then they’ll adopt some kids and get a few dogs and everything will be _perfect_.

Liam sounds like he _likes_ marriage. Liam’s always had a bit of issues regarding commitment – God knows how many times they’ve rowed about being together, and Zayn crying into his sheets into the early hours of the morning – but they’ve been in a good place for _months_ , now. They’ve been together almost four years – officially four, come January – and they’ve become so much more domesticated as time has worn on. Liam’s met his family countless times and they all _love_ Liam to pieces – and his aunties even call Liam a _Malik_ at this point. Zayn even sometimes refers to Liam as _the missus_ , on occasion.

It’s past ridiculous. Honestly.

They’ve never really properly considered marriage, but Zayn is so fucking in _love_ with Liam, that the thought of putting it off any longer is almost absurd, and –

Zayn wants to marry Liam. Desperately. And he’s going to – he _will_ , he swears it, but before he can say anything to respond, Liam presses a wet kiss on Zayn’s forehead and says, “Well, I think it’s time for festive beverages, don’t you?” And he dances off to the kitchen, swaying his hips as he walks and Zayn watches after him, biting his bottom lip to stop the hopelessly-in-love smile break his face.

 

 

 

Zayn blinks himself awake, and he can hear Liam singing in the kitchen as he makes breakfast, and the first thought in his head is _I want to propose to Liam tonight._

He scrambles for his phone that sits on the bedside table and furiously texts Louis.

_I need ur help._

Louis replies almost instantly.

**What did u do now?**

_I did nothing u fucker_

**Mhm. Why are u texting me this early?**

_Im gonna propose to liam. 2night._

Nothing, for a few minutes, and then his phone rings. It’s Louis.

“ _You’re proposing?!”_ Louis demands, shouting down the phone so loudly that Zayn has to hold the phone away from his ear.

“Good morning, Louis,” Zayn yawns. “And yes. I am.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds. “ _Well. Shit. Okay.”_

Zayn grins. “I need your help.”

“ _Obviously, you idiot,”_ Louis teases. “ _What do you need?_ ”

“I need to go ring shopping. And set up something really cute in Hyde Park this evening, and –“

 _“Hold on_ ,” Louis interrupts. “ _You haven’t even got a ring?”_

“Nah,” Zayn says. “It was really a last minute decision, honestly.”

“ _You just though, on a whim, ‘_ I’m gonna marry Liam today’ _?”_

Zayn considers. “Basically.”

Louis sighs heavily through the phone. “ _Are you stupid?”_

“Um –“

 _“I’m going to help you – you’re gonna need all the help you can get, because you’re a fucking idiot who makes life choices on a whim, because you’re an_ idiot _–“_

“Excuse me –“

_“- and I’ll recruit Harold and Neil, wherever the fuck he is – is he even in the country? I dunno. Maybe. Probably; we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I suppose. So, in terms of rings, I was thinking something extravagant, and beautiful with diamonds, and –“_

_“_ Um,” Zayn says, “I can’t get anything too expensive. I still have to pay off student debt, you know.”

“ _Ah, yes, that,”_ Louis sighs. “ _Well. There goes my perfect idea of a proposal_.”

“ _Your_ idea?” Zayn smirks.

“ _Shut it, I’m basically doing everything for you,”_ Louis dismisses easily. “ _So. Something simple, then –“_

 _“_ And not too expensive, I need to eat tonight,” Zayn reminds him.

“ _Yes,_ yes _, I’m aware, Zayn Javadd,”_ Louis huffs. “ _Ring shopping, then. You and I. You wanna meet in Temple, then? Um, say – I dunno, twelve-ish?”_

Zayn glances at his watch. It’s half eleven. _Shit_. “Yeah, yeah,” Zayn says, leaping out of bed and pulling his jeans – or Liam, he really can’t tell – and trying to find a shirt. “Cool.”

 _“Alright, see you then, bella. Ciao!”_ and then, he’s gone.

Zayn shoves his phone into his back pocket and throws on a t-shirt and his leather jacket, before slipping on his Docs and rushing out of the bedroom.

“Babe?” Liam asks, as Zayn runs into the kitchen, grabs a slice of toast and kisses Liam on the cheek. “Where are you off to? You’ve not even had breakfast and it’s Christmas _Eve,_ and–“

“I’m really busy today, sorry love!” Zayn calls over his shoulder as he wiggles into his jacket, “but I’ll be seeing you later tonight, okay? I love you!”

And before he can hear Liam’s response, the door is shut and he’s flying down the stairs and out of the building.

 

*

 

Zayn meets Louis at the entrance of Temple Station. It’s only five past ten, and Zayn has been running through the tube station like a maniac, not apologising to businessmen as he ran straight into them and getting looks from pregnant mothers as he sprinted through the crowds. No doubt his hair is sticking up in every direction, and he’s almost certain there’s a bit of spilt coffee on his shoes from the time he bumped into a lady – who, may he just say, was in his way, and it was _her_ fault that she didn’t have a secure grip on her cup – but none of that really matters because he needs to get the _perfect_ ring for Liam. And God knows how long that will take.

“You’re _late_ ,” Louis sing-songs, arching a brow and crossing his arms.

“I,” Zayn gasps, “have _never_ run that fast before in my _life_.”

“The shops are closing early ‘cause it’s Christmas Eve, so we need to _go,”_ Louis says, ignoring Zayn’s breathlessness completely and dragging him out of the station by his sleeve. “And everywhere in central London is going to be _packed_ today, so _hurry_ , Zayn!”

“I can’t _breathe,”_ Zayn pants as he’s dragged down the street, but Louis pays no mind whatsoever, powering on and pushing past the hordes of frantic Christmas shoppers.

“Smoking and little exercise tends to do that to you,” Louis says nonchalantly, _still_ pulling Zayn until they get to the corner of the street where a small jewellers shop is situated, seemingly calm and untouched by the panic and stress of the people rushing around outside.

“Here we are,” Louis announces. “Ring time!”

Zayn looks up at it dubiously. It’s _Boodles at Savoy_ ; grand and beautiful with the rings sparkling in the display, and it looks so fucking _expensive_. “Looks a bit out my price range.”

“Nonsense,” Louis waves off, “I’m sure even _you_ could afford something.”

“On the pay I get from WHSmiths? Doubt it.”

“I told you to work at Waterstones, but nobody listens to me,” Louis sighs, pushing the door open and practically shoving Zayn inside.

The lady at the the til smiles at Louis as they enter. “Good morning! How can I help you today?”

“We,” Louis grins, “are looking for the _perfect_ engagement ring.”

She casts a dubious glance at Zayn, who is clutching his knees and panting heavily, hair still messed up and looking like a mess in his stained jeans Liam’s Nikes. “Right,” she says tentatively, looking back at Louis. “For your special lady?”

Louis snorts. “Not mine, and not a lady,” he says, pulling Zayn so he’s standing upright. “ _His_ special guy.”

“Right,” the woman says again. “Well. What did you have in mind?”

“Um,” Zayn begins, getting his breath back, “maybe something really simple –“

“But gorgeous at the same time,” Louis interjects.

“-And not too expensive –“

“- But nothing cheap either; come _on_ , Zayn, love yourself –“

“- and, just - _beautiful.”_ Zayn finishes, smiling at the woman. The woman arches a brow and regards Zayn curiously, pursing her lips.

“Sure,” she drawls. “Well. If you’d just like to follow me,” she says, walking over the glass display case. “These,” she says, “are probably what you’re looking for.”

Zayn looks at the rings. They’re bands of gold or silver, and they’re plain, but they sparkle under the lights, the shine dancing under the beams.

“They’re gorgeous,” Zayn breathes, and the woman smiles. “How much are they?”

“These ones are usually three or four hundred,” she says, and Zayn’s face falls, “but, because it’s Christmas Eve, and the pair of you look desperate –“

“Ex _cuse_ me,” Louis says, but Zayn elbows him.

“- they’ll cost you from one-fifty to two hundred.”

Zayn beams. “That’s _brilliant_ ,” he breathes, staring at the rings again.

“Well, Christmas cheer and whatnot,” the woman deadpans. “So. Which one do you think will best suit your fiancé to be?”

The word _fiancé_ makes Zayn’s stomach flip with happy anticipation. He grins again. “Um, that one,” he says, pointing to a gold one that sits in a scarlet velvet box.

The woman nods, taking it out of the case and holding it to Zayn. “This one is eight carats,” she says, “and has wonderful durability –“

“How much?” Louis demands, and Zayn stomps on his foot and smiles at the woman, who just scowls at Louis.

“Two hundred,” she says. “Will you be taking it?”

“Yeah,” Zayn whispers, looking at the ring again. “He’ll love it.”

“He’d better,” Louis says under his breath, “because I dibs the role of best man.”

 

*

 

“Now what?” Louis asks as they sip their drinks in Starbucks. “How do you actually plan on proposing to him?”

Zayn shrugs, putting down his cup. “Asking him in Hyde Park. I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but _how_?” Louis demands. “Will there be rose petals? Choirs? A dance number? Glitter raining from the sky? _How_?”

Zayn shurgs again. “Dunno. I’d probably get down on one knee and just ask him.”

Louis blinks. “You’re not serious.”

“I – I am,” Zayn stares, frowning. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You are not _serious_ ,” Louis groans. “That’s so _boring_ , Zayn. I thought I raised you better.”

“You didn’t raise me at all.”

“Pointless detail,” Louis dismisses, “but what I’m saying is that’s – are you – there has to be _more_ than that!”

“Um,” Zayn frowns. “I can bring roses?”

Louis blinks again, and then casts his eyes to the heavens. “Help me, Lord.”

“You are so dramatic,” Zayn snorts taking another sip, and Louis throws a packet of sugar at him, that hits him square in the face.

“And _you_ \- you sweet, lovable bastard – are not dramatic _enough_. There’s no _flare_.”

“I think flare is more your thing, mate,” Zayn smirks.

Louis ignores him. “Do you even know what you’ll be wearing?”

Zayn raises his brows. “Clothes?”

Louis drops his head to the table. “Sweet Jehovah.” He raises his head and glares at Zayn. “You’d be so lost without me.”

“I don’t get what –“

Louis holds up a hand to silence him. “No. Listen to me. You will be wearing a tuxedo – yes, a fancy one, and no I do _not_ care if you’re cold, Liam will appreciate it – and you’ll be kneeling on rose petals. The rest of the squad will be there too, throwing petals and Niall will be wearing lights and Harry will recruit Ed to play for you – no, shut up, it’s happening – and then you’ll launch into a romantic speech – it won’t be hard, you study words in university – and Liam will cry and then you’ll ask him, he’ll say yes and then you can skip back to your apartment and have lovely, wonderful sex.”

On the table next to them, a woman covers her child’s ears and glares at Louis.

“That sounds superfluous.”

“You’ll thank me later, now let us away,” Louis announces, pulling Zayn up off his seat. “If you are going to propose, you cannot be looking like _that_ ,” he says, gesturing vaguely to Zayn’s entire body.

“I cannot _always_ be looking fantastic,” Zayn says as he’s pulled out onto the street.

“Excuses,” Louis waves off. “Now – _onward!”_ He cries, galloping – _galloping_ – into the crowds towards the station, and Zayn curses under his breath and follows him, ignoring the looks he gets from pedestrians.

 

*

 

Louis swings open the door to his apartment, shouting, “I’m _home_!”

Harry’s on the couch wearing a Christmas onesie – it has _lights_ on it – and he rushes up to Louis and throws himself onto him, grin wide and dimples displayed.

“Lou!” he cries. “Missed you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but the delay on the tube was _horrendous_ ,” Louis sighs dramatically. “I hate the tube.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Harry smiles and then proceeds to attack Louis’ face with kisses.

“I’m here as well,” Zayn says, toeing off his boots. “In case anyone cares.”

Harry untangles himself from Louis and presses a wet kiss to Zayn’s stubble. “Hello, friend.”

“We need to help Zayn,” Louis says, shrugging off his coat. “He’s proposing to Liam today.”

Harry squeals and jumps up and down, clapping gleefully. “Oh my God, and Christmas Eve proposal!” He throws his arms around Zayn. “Liam will love it!”

“He needs to look presentable, because he’s not wearing _that_ tonight,” Louis says, standing back and scrutinizing Zayn.

“Agreed,” Harry says. “You need a tux.”

“That’s what I said,” Louis tells him. “He also needs roses and lots of flowers.”

“Done and done, easily,” Harry tells Zayn. “I have a collection in the bathroom. It smells like honeysuckle in there.”

“We need to find Niall, wherever he is,” Louis says, dragging Zayn towards their bedroom, and Harry follows behind, “and Ed needs to be there to play guitar, and we need _lights_ , alright?”

“On it,” Harry says, bounding down the hallway on his ridiculous legs, leaving a confused and bewildered Zayn in his wake.

“Dios mio,” Zayn breathes. “I feel stressed.”

“And so you should,” Louis tells him. “Now for a tux –“

“I don’t think we’ll have time to rent one and get everything set up for this evening,” Zayn says, glancing at his watch which reads it’s ten past three. “It’s already dark outside.”

“No need to fret,” Louis grins, opening his wardrobe, revealing an alarming amount of tuxedos and suits and fancy, polished dress shoes. “Now. I was thinking _black_ , right?”

 

 

*

 

It’s five now, and Zayn’s shaved, hair coiffed perfectly and he’s dressed in Louis’ fanciest, most extravagant tuxedo with the ring burning a hole in his pocket. Harry managed to get the flowers and find Niall – who, apparently, was just in his flat listening to JLS for hours on end – and Ed, who’s perfectly content with partaking in the arduous task of _Operation Ziam_.

And Zayn is _freaking_ out.

“You alright, Zee?” Harry asks, as he drapes lights all over Niall. “You look as if you’re about to shit yourself.”

“I’m going to _propose_ ,” he whispers to himself. “To _Liam_.”

“Really, who would’ve guessed,” Louis deadpans, and Ed throws a rose at his face on Zayn’s behalf.

“It’ll be _fine_ , don’t worry,” Harry soothes, and Zayn gives him a shaky smile. “The worst that can happen is that he can say no, and you’ll have to deal with heartbreak for a couple of months, and probably hate Christmas Eve eternally.”

“You’re not helping,” Niall says, pushing Harry out of the way and pulling Zayn into a hug.

“I’m going to _shit_ myself,” Zayn says into Niall’s shoulder.

“It will be fine,” Niall promises. “He’ll say yes. I know it. I feel it in my loins.”

“He fucking better,” Zayn whispers under his breath as he’s pushed out of the apartment.

 

*

 

Hyde Park looks _wonderful_. There’s frost settling on the grass and lights in the leafless trees. Zayn would be in awe of how lovely it looks if his heart wasn’t thundering against his ribcage.

“You’ll be fine,” Louis promises for the fifth time in the past eight minutes. “He will say yes, okay?”

Zayn nods dumbly and swallows. He ring is poking into his leg and his palms are sweating. God, he’s so fucking nervous. “I’m so fucking nervous,” he says.”

“He’s on his way!” Harry yells, clutching the petals tightly in excitement. “He says he’s five minutes away!”

Niall switches on the lights and he’s beaming now – _literally –_ and Ed’s tuning his guitar. Louis is trying to calm Harry down and Zayn’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, crushing the rose petals into the grass and looking out for Liam in the crowd, holding the roses tightly in his palm.

“I see him!” Harry screams. “He’s there! He’s over there!”

And he _is_ there, wrapped in his coat and Zayn’s scarf, his hands deep in pockets and his nose and lips red from the cold. He looks gorgeous and beautiful and Zayn is so in love it hurts.

He’s getting closer now, and he’s spotted Zayn, walking over with his eyebrows knitted when he sees the rose petals on the floor and Niall in lights and Zayn in a tuxedo. Ed starts plucking at his guitar as soon as Liam gets close enough and –

Shit. It’s happening. He’s going to _propose_.

“Zayn,” Liam says. “Why is Niall in lights?”

“Liam,” Zayn begins shakily. “I need to tell you something.”

Liam frowns but nods, and Zayn takes both of his hands, and taking a steadying breath.

“Liam – we’ve been together for almost four years, and I can safely say they have been the best four years of my entire existence. I love being with you. You are the only person who I ever have loved and ever will love. I am so glad that you are mine and every morning when I wake up and I see you in bed next to me, my heart stutters because I cannot believe you are mine.”

A small crowd has gathered and a couple of people are filming, but Zayn pays no mind and stares deeper into Liam’s eyes.

“I love you so much that I can’t put it into words. It’s – fuck – it’s crazy how much I love you.  I want to be with you forever, jaan.”

Zayn drops to one knee, and Liam’s eyes widen. “Z-Zayn,” he gasps, “why are you on one knee?”

“Well, he’s not going to suck you off in public, Liam,” Louis quips, and Harry shushes him and elbows him in the stomach.

“L-Liam James Payne,” Zayn stutters. “I want to hold you for the rest of my life. I want to be yours, and you to be mine. I love you with every fibre of my being. Please,” he says, dropping the roses and digging the ring out of his pockets, presenting it to Liam, “will you do me the eternal honour of marrying me?”

Behind him, Zayn can hear Harry sobbing and the crowd gasps and _aww_ ’s, and Liam is standing there, speechless, his eyes still wide as ever.

“Zayn,” Liam breathes, tears pooling in his eyes, “you fucking –“

He pulls Zayn up and crashes his lips into Zayn’s. It’s a biting kiss, and it’s messy, full of tongue and teeth, but Zayn wouldn’t have it any other way. His heart is hammering in his chest and the ring is still in his hand, but he’s holding onto Liam with everything he has, and Liam’s digging his fingers into Zayn’s jacket, pulling him impossibly close.

Liam pulls away, suddenly and leans his forehead against Zayn’s, the tears now running down his cheeks and his lips red, wet and swollen from kissing.

“Zayn,” Liam smiles tearfully, “of course I’ll fucking marry you.”

Zayn’s heart stops. “Yeah?” he whispers back, still holding fiercely onto Liam.

“Just give him the sodding ring, you idiot!” Ed shouts and them, and Zayn nods shakily, pulling away from Liam and slipping the ring on his finger. Liam’s crying, Harry is on the floor in tears, the crowd cheers and Niall flings petals at them excitedly.

“My _babies_ ,” Harry sobs, and Louis has to hold him, soothing him. “They’re getting married!”

“Wahey!” Niall cries, flinging another handful. “Best couple in t’world!”

Liam looks down at the ring and then back at Zayn, eyes still wet but full of affection. “Well,” he breathes tearfully, “my present is gonna seem pretty shit, now.”

And all Zayn can do is laugh and hold Liam impossibly close, because he’s in love and he’s going to marry – _marry –_ Liam. And it’s going to be _spectacular._

 

 

**_fin_ **

**Author's Note:**

> ....wasn't that fun, kids?  
>  i hope you enjoyed and you still have all your teeth from the sickeningly sweet fluff that you've just read  
> *shameless plug for you to check out the rest of my fics wink wink nudge nugde and for kudos and comments oi oi*  
> thank you for reading! t xx  
> tumblr | zaynsbricknokia
> 
> ETA 1/1/2015: I've decided I'm gonna write a sequel. I love this verse too much.


End file.
